


tell me that you want it, baby

by SafelyCapricious



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Pollen, Sex Toys, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 12:09:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11440578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SafelyCapricious/pseuds/SafelyCapricious
Summary: When Simmons comes down the stairs to the Vault carrying a pile of bedding he frowns and sits up. She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t so much as look at him, just places her pillows and blankets on the ground between the invisible barrier and the chair, and heads back up the stairs.





	tell me that you want it, baby

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shineyma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shineyma/gifts), [jdphoenix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdphoenix/gifts).



> First, I am dedicating this to the ever lovely and most amazing online friends in existence: [Shineyma](http://archiveofourown.org/users/shineyma/) and [JDPhoenix](http://archiveofourown.org/users/jdphoenix). As a birthday present. Is it currently either of their birthdays? No. Am I the worst? Undoubtedly. This is for each of their, respective, 2016 birthdays in the hopes of actually being a decent person and getting their birthday fics done this year in a reasonable amount of time. 
> 
> Second, this is nothing but smut. Seriously. There's nothing even plot adjacent here. This is the most filthy thing I have ever written so, you know, there's that.
> 
> Third, if you think I should've put other warnings up, please let me know!
> 
> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy yourselves.

When Simmons comes down the stairs to the Vault carrying a pile of bedding he frowns and sits up. She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t so much as look at him, just places her pillows and blankets on the ground between the invisible barrier and the chair, and heads back up the stairs.

She repeats the process two more times, bringing a medium sized cardboard box, towels, and more blankets.

He arches an eyebrow. It looks like the beginnings of a slumber party. He wonders if this is SHIELD’s next play. To force him to attend a girl’s night in the hopes of making him crack. The thought makes him grin, and he keeps his eyes on a serious looking Simmons as she sets up a nest.

She stands back up, eyes the entire set up – the pillows leaning against the chair, the blankets spread around, the towels placed off to the side by the box and nods, satisfied to herself. She still hasn’t so much as looked at him.

She is aware he’s there, however. He deliberately lets the bed creak under him and he watches her tense and force herself to relax before she takes a deep breath and finally settles down, legs tucked under her to keep her skirt from being indecent, on the pile of blankets. He unabashedly enjoys the sight of her in a skirt – very rarely she would wear one on the Bus so he knows she has fantastic legs – since it’s not like he has anything else to look at.

She meets his eyes squarely, and he’s a little taken aback by the look on her face. He’s not entirely sure how to categorize it, but it’s not a look he’s ever seen from her. He doesn’t let her see that he’s unsettled though; instead he just arches an eyebrow.

She straightens her skirt and clears her throat twice before speaking. “HYDRA has recently developed a hormone altering powder.”

He holds his hands at his side and shrugs, saying, “That’s nice, Simmons. I’m only going to talk to Skye about anything I know about it though.”

She scoffs and waves a hand through the air. “Oh no, I’m not here for information. I cannot believe you could possibly know more about it than I do, _I’ve_ had the chance to analyze numerous samples of it, you, at most, knew they were planning it. If they _were_ planning it before you were taken into custody.” She shakes her head and continues without giving him a chance to lie. “In any case, I’m going to assume you have no idea what it does. So I’ll tell you.” She wrinkles her nose and hesitates for a fraction of a second. “In layman’s terms, they developed a sex-pollen.”

He actually laughs and she pauses long enough to let him finish before continuing her ridiculous explanation. “I suspect it’s to be used as a distraction technique, although they may be using it as torture too, as unsatisfied urges do end with the one infected experiencing severe pain and eventual death. Luckily it’s–”

He interrupts with, “You don’t seriously expect me to believe you’ve been infected with _sex-pollen_ ,” his disbelief drips off the words, “and have decided to satisfy your urges with me.”

She scoffs and says, “No, of course not. As I was _saying_ , luckily it doesn’t require actual sexual intercourse to be satisfied. It just requires the chemical presence of another person. We tried to create an artificial chemical that could mimic–” she cut herself off with a shake of her head. “In any case. It requires between nine and twelve orgasms in the presence of another human. The group of agents that have been unfortunate enough to have been dosed are still unable to meet the eyes of most of the rest of the base. It’s terribly awkward.”

He smirks, willing to call her bluff, because this is weak, even from SHIELD. He will admit, that Simmons has become a better liar since he’s been locked away, but it’s still clearly a bluff. “And you’ve decided it would be less awkward to have your orgasms here?”

She nods and says, “Yes. Precisely. I have no intention of having a sexual relationship foisted on me with someone I’m not interested in and I don’t particularly want to deal with the awkwardness that would come from requiring someone else, whose opinion I care about, to be in the same room with me as I flush this chemical out of my system. I never want to see you again anyways, and I have full faith that I will have this problem sorted out well before the next time anyone is dosed. Your cage is permeable to airborne chemicals and hormones, at least right now it is, so this will count as being in the same room as you.”

He laughs, amused that she’s still trying to convince him this is legitimate, and spreads his hands wide. “Go ahead then.”

She rolls her eyes and replies tartly, “There’s no reason for me to get started before the chemical is affecting me, be reasonable.”

And he knows it has to be a ploy, but as he arches an eyebrow in amusement he can see a flush starting to work its way across her skin. And then she’s reaching into the box and pulling out a number of sex toys and his eyebrows meet his hairline. She is really going all out on this. He’s reluctantly impressed.

He looks away, hoping that she’ll get bored of his non-reactions and leave – or maybe feel the need to escalate. Either way should be entertaining.

He’s staring at nothing at all and trying to decide just what to say, what words will be the most cutting and hopefully get her to leave him well enough alone when she makes a soft noise in her throat. A _sex_ noise. His gaze swings abruptly back to her and he can see that she’s reclining back against the pillows now, the flush on her cheeks pronounced and visible down her neck to what’s visible of her chest. She’s unfolded her legs and they’re out in front of her now, shifting, just a bit, restlessly. Her eyes are decidedly glazed.

He swallows heavily.

Her left hand is reaching for the toys, her right is tugging at her skirt, pulling it up instead of down.

Holy _shit_.

She makes a helpless noise, soft and whimpering as her skirt gets stuck between her and the ground. Her left hand abandons the small toy and she wiggles and shifts her weight. Instead of continuing to pull it up, however, her hands go to the small of her back and she fiddles there for a moment. The waist of the skirt goes loose and her right hand immediately darts into the space provided.

He can see her hand moving under the black fabric where it’s stretched taunt between her thighs and he can see her shudder on an exhale, but that’s it.

It’s obscene.

“Fuck.” He barely recognizes his own voice, sex rough despite the fact that he’s not even fully hard yet.

She keens, and he can’t help but think it’s in response. So he tries again, uttering a soft, “That’s it, baby.” Her eyes slit open for only a second, before her hand does something that has her back arching and her eyes slamming shut.

He leans forward, legs spread, forearms on his knees, and goes for broke. “Slow down, sweetheart. This isn’t a race. I want to see you.”

She bites her lip but slows. He grins, triumphant.

She doesn’t do anything else though, so after a moment he prompts her, voice low, “Why don’t you unbutton your blouse, sweetheart? Let me see those pretty breasts.”

She whimpers, releasing her bottom lip from its abuse. It’s red and ripe and wet. Her left hand gets distracted from where it has definitely been heading to her buttons, and instead she starts to knead at her breast through the shirt. 

Her back arches deliciously and he can tell that her hand under her skirt has picked up speed again.

He clears his throat, and though he was going to say something, that seems to be enough and he doesn’t have to. She stills abruptly and shoots him a languid look as she pulls her hand from between her legs to join the other. The shirt is unbuttoned in an instant; wet marks all down the right side that are hard not to think about. 

There’s a tank top underneath it. She doesn’t need direction this time however, and simply pushes it up and pulls her bra down.

She already looks debauched. Eyes glazed, skin flushed, blouse open and wet but still on, her pretty breasts, firm and pink and _bitable,_ visible between her tank top and bra.

She pinches at her nipples and mewls, back arching again and he has to clench a fist not to try to reach out to her. The flush on her face carries over her breasts and he wants to touch – to find what pressure, where, makes her keen. To find out just how hard he has to nibble to leave marks that would last for days. To _taste_.

Her thighs are rubbing together again, restless, though she seems well and truly distracted by her own chest – he can’t blame her – but he’s also impatient. He swallows heavily before asking, in a dark voice, “Why don’t you pull up your skirt, baby girl?”

This time she uses her elbows to help keep her hips up and the skirt comes up obligingly. Her panties are white cotton, and as soon as the skirt is up her right hand disappears back into them. He can see everything through the wet fabric.

She seems to have forgotten about the box of toys she brought down with her, which suits him fine, as next to watching his own fingers or cock disappear into her, watching her fingers is the next best thing.

She’s making soft stuttering noises, and he can tell she’s getting close by how her toes are curling and releasing against the comforter and by how frantic her hand has gotten. She shoves her left fist into her mouth, but he can still hear her keen around her flesh as she curls up on herself, leg twitching, and finally comes.

She lies there, breathlessly panting, for a few moments, eyes closed.

He watches her, quietly, unsure if now that she’s come once she’s going to come back to herself or not.

Her eyes are still closed when her fingers twitch against her cunt, hips giving an aborted hitch. Her breath catches and her eyes slit open – sex glazed and blown.

He smirks and adjusts himself, pleased when her eyes follow the motion and she licks her lips. “Do you feel better, beautiful? Or do you need _more_?”

“More,” she pleads, and he can hear her breath hitch as the hand she’d muffled herself with drops back to her chest and she starts to rub against her nipple again.

He considers her for a moment – and it’s clear that she’s waiting for him.

The sense of power is a little heady, especially considering how long he’s been stuck in this cell and who she is. It doesn’t take him long to decide what he wants – he’s not entirely sure it’s the smart move here, in fact, he’s pretty sure the best move for reestablishing himself with the team would be turning his back and ignoring her until she’s done.

It’s also not fucking possible.

That thing she was saying about the barrier letting her body know someone else is there, or whatever, seems to be absolutely true. Or he’s starting to hallucinate. He thinks he can smell her. Like sex and that body wash she used to use on the Bus.

So he doesn’t do the smart thing and turn around. 

Instead he eyes her – her state of disarray. She’s only come once, and by herself, but she looks positively debauched. Her lips are red from where she’s been biting at them and he’s pretty sure right then that Coulson could get him to agree to just about anything for the chance to bite at them himself.

He’s not sure if he’s glad or upset that Coulson is far too righteous to ever think of it.

He tries to push the visual out of his mind, because it’s just a visual. He has no idea what she might taste like or just how hot her skin would feel against his own.

He squeezes himself and refocuses.

The real question is, what next.

She wants more and he wants to give it to her. Fuck does he want to give it to her. 

He’s suddenly glad for the barrier – which is a first.

He wets his lips and stops thinking about it when that simple action makes her moan. He bites down on his lower lip before ducking his head slightly. “How sensitive are you, sweetheart? I wanna see how quickly you can come again.”

She wiggles, hips shifting as she rubs her thighs together, hand trapped in the crease.

He clucks his tongue and her gaze focuses back on him. “No baby, I need to see you.”

She bites at her lower lip again and he stares her down until she parts her legs, spreading so he can see the positively soaked panties that she’s got her hand buried in.

“That’s a good girl,” he purrs, and then clenches his jaw when his words seem to make her arch, thrusting her chest into the air. She switches hands, then, dragging the one from her cunt up her chest, leaving slick moisture in its wake before she’s tugging at her own nipples. Her other hand goes to work, fingers rubbing on either side of her clit. And wow, yeah, he’s glad he didn’t know up until this point that she’s clearly practiced masturbation with both hands.

He doesn’t tell her to slow down this time, instead just muttering encouragements like, “That’s it, sweetheart, you’ve got it,” as she chases her pleasure.

This orgasm is all clitoral stimulation, and though after it's done he can see her start to pull her hand away, when he orders, softly, “No baby, I want you to come again, keep working yourself.” And she does, keeping eye-contact with him for as long as she can as her fingers rub against her clit furiously. He’s not actually sure the other orgasm has finished before she’s crying out and coming again – this time her hand doesn’t pause in its motion, even without his encouragement, even though her other hand is regaled to clutching at the blanket she’s laying on and she’s panting in harsh gasping breaths.

She’s spiraling higher and higher, he can see as her muscles tense in anticipation, but she doesn’t seem to be getting there and so he swallows to get some moisture in his throat and offers a slightly hoarse, “You need more baby? Try fucking your fingers again, let them fill you up.”

Her head’s thrown back, neck tense, and he worries that maybe she hasn’t heard, but then she shifts her hand and shoves two fingers into her cunt. He’s not sure if it’s the change of pressure against her clit or the internal stimulation, but within moments she manages to come again, letting out a whimpering cry into the quiet of the cell.

Her hand is flexing where she’s been clutching the bedding to hold steady, and she’s panting loudly, but otherwise she’s completely motionless as she comes back to herself. Her head is turned away from him and he wonders if she’s actually back to herself yet or just coming down still.

Only one way to find out.

“Alright baby, good job, let's slow down.” He grins as she whimpers, but listens, turning her head to see him. Her eyes are still dark and glazed. Her hand in the blankets moves, coming to rest against her breast as she watches him. He gives her a moment to see if she’ll keep listening or get distracted, but no, she’s paying attention. Her dark eyes are fixed on him and her hand is still in her panties, but she’s not moving either hand at all.

After another short moment she starts to knead at her breast, humming lightly in the back of her throat, and he decides that trying to get her fully undressed is going to take priority over seeing what else he can make her do.

She’ll thank him for it – even if she won’t actually do that, and he knows she won’t. But she’ll be glad, later, for it. He can see that the straps of her bra are starting to make pink lines across her skin.

He draws his attention away from her beautiful breasts and back to her face.

She’s watching him through half open eyes, mouth parted and red and wet and _god_.

“Sweetheart,” he starts, having to clear his throat because he’s too hoarse to continue. “Baby,” he tries again, this time it comes out smoother – still rough but better, “can you finish getting undressed for me? I want to see all of you, spread out, just for me.”

Her tongue darts out, swipes at her lips, and she nods.

He waits for a long moment, but she’s not moving – well she is, she’s still kneading at her breast and her hand is shifting against her sex, but she’s not removing her clothes.

“Jemma, baby,” he says, putting a little more force behind his words.

She bites her lower lip and moans before, reluctantly, pulling her hand from her panties and sitting up with some effort.

Her legs shift while she focuses on shrugging out of her blouse, as she rubs her thighs together to try to get some friction. Her tank top comes off easily, but her bra she has some trouble with, not going for the clasp but instead trying to get it off by yanking it over her head. She gets it off eventually, but she’s clearly restless and he’s not surprised when, instead of trying to wrestle out of her skirt that’s still pushed up around her waist, she simply shoves a hand back down into her panties and rubs, frantically, at her clit. 

He only manages to say, “Sweetheart,” before she’s coming on a sigh, eyes shut as she pants for air. It’s the softest orgasm she’s had yet, tension easing from her body.

It is also ridiculously hot, and he palms himself and grins, pleased when she moans, soft and low, and he can see her slip another finger into herself through the thin barrier of her soaked panties. 

“You’re not naked yet, baby. Come on, take off your skirt and your panties – I want you spread out, just for me.” She bites her lip and nods at him, but she doesn’t take her hand out of her panties until he deliberately removes his hand from his erection, and then she’s pouting at him and shifting so she can push the skirt and underwear down off her long legs. 

“There we go baby, now let me see you.” He rubs over his covered erection again, and her eyes track his hand – but her legs spread and fuck.

Fuck she’s hot.

Her hand is already drifting back towards her soaked sex, carding through her neatly trimmed hair. Her other hand is massaging at her breast again, softly now.

Finally she slips a finger into herself and sighs, going slightly boneless at the pressure, as little as it is.

In an instant he knows exactly what he wants from her, and he smirks before saying, softly, “I want you to pretend that’s my hand, baby, can you do that for me? Can you fuck yourself on my fingers?”

She makes a little ‘uh-huh’ noise, or at least he thinks she does. Her gaze is fixed firmly on where his hand is, flexing against his cock over his pants and she’s slipping a second finger into herself.

He snaps his fingers on his other hand and draws her eyes back to his face. “I need an answer, baby. Can you do that for me?” 

She shudders, her eyes slipping closed for an instant before she manages a louder, “Uh-huh.” And then when he snaps again she says, “I can. I can do that.” Her voice is soft and breathy in a way he’s never heard and he’s certain it’ll be making appearances in his fantasies for the foreseeable future.

He watches as she twists the hand in her cunt, working a third finger in, and then tries to hold the hand steady – instead of moving it she starts moving her hips in counterpoint, the heel of her palm there to push against her clit with the grind of her hips.

_Fuck_. 

He was expecting her to just use her imagination but no. Simmons has always been an overachiever, and apparently that holds true even when she’s drugged on some sort of sex pollen bullshit.

Her other hand is alternating between pinching at her nipples and giving light, teasing touches to her flesh.

He’d be using teeth and tongue, if he was there – if he was really fucking her with his fingers. And he’s not sure if she’s guessing or if she somehow knows – it’s damn erotic. 

And when she comes – god – her hips grinding mindlessly into her hand, her head thrown back and shifting, side to side, her hand plucking at a nipple – when she comes she cries out, “Ward!” and he has to push down, painfully hard, on his cock to keep from coming with her. 

He grits his teeth and pushes down until he’s got himself under control, and then he lets out a hiss of breath. He tries to remember how many times she said she’d have to come before it cleared her system – he wasn’t paying full attention at the time because he was so sure she was full of shit but now – now he wants to plan just what he’s going to see if he can get her to do.

He’s well aware that the control panel for his cell isn’t even down there with them, but he’s happy (for now) to work within the constraints he’s been given.

He wants to hear her cry out his first name, but he doesn’t want to tell her to do it – that would be too easy. No, he wants her to be so involved in the fantasy of his hands and mouth of her that she does it on her own. 

He leans back and pulls his shirt up and off before slipping a hand down below the waistband of the scrub pants they have him in. “God, look at you baby, spread out just for me.” He wets and bites his lower lip – she seems torn between where to look, eyes darting frantically from his mouth to his chest to his cock. “I would just eat you up.” 

She whimpers and starts to close her legs. He thinks it’s probably to get more pressure against the hand that’s still trapped there, but that’s not what he wants at all. He makes a chiding noise in his throat and she freezes, eyes wide and fixed on him like he’ll make it stop if she doesn’t do what he says.

He smiles and licks his lips again. She shudders and slowly spreads her legs again. He groans, not at all faked, when her shifting means he can see that she’s made the blanket wet with her come. Fuck. He can imagine how good it would feel to sink into that warm wet heat and it’s – it’s not an option right now and he needs to focus.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so wet for me, aren’t you?”

He’s not expecting a response, since until he made her she’s been surprisingly quiet, but he’s more than pleased when she breathes out, “Mmm, yeah.”

He bites his lower lip gently, and risks trying to get more from her. Even though she hasn’t screamed – and fuck he wants to make her scream and if he could actually touch her he’d know he would but – even though she hasn’t screamed her voice is lower than normal, rougher, her accent going a bit soft around the edges so it just fades out.

“How’re you feeling baby, not too sensitive?”

She blinks at him, slowly and shifts her hand – biting her lip and arching into the smallest touch in answer – but then she wets her lower lip and stutters, “N-no. Not too sensitive. Fee-feels good.”

He smiles, nice and slow, and watches as her fingers pick up their pace – and he decides to give her this one. To not try to get her to stop and come on his say-so because she deserves one for how well she’s behaved.

She doesn’t take her eyes off him, when she comes, even when her back arches she keeps her head tilted and her eyes slit open and – fuck.

He grits his teeth and reminds himself that he doesn’t want to come. He doesn’t want to come because anything that could make her look back on this and think it wasn’t just about her is not in his plan, so he can touch and he can look and he can _talk_ , but he can’t come.

Well, unless she begs to see it. But if she begs then all bets are off regardless of his ability to do anything she might beg for.

He should probably get up and get some water, because his throat is getting painfully dry, but he doesn’t have the ability to turn away from her to get it, so instead he just swallows heavily, twice, and then speaks. “That feel good, baby?”

“Uh-huh,” she groans, eyelids fluttering still a little bit as her fingers gently work inside herself.

“Can you pretend _I’m_ fucking you, sweetheart?” She blinks, twice, and flexes her fingers before moving them back how they were and, ah, he sees the confusion. “No, not that I’m fingering you, that I’m _fucking_ you.” 

She bites her lower lip and considers, hand stilling against her folds as her beautiful brilliant brain tries to decide what to do. Finally – finally – she nods and the hand that had been clutching at the bedding leaves to paw around in the spilled contents of the box.

The dildo she choses isn’t the right size or shape, but she doesn’t have any realistic ones (not that he’d expect her to, honestly) but it has a nice curve to it.

She shifts, settling her feet on the ground, knees up, as she uses one hand to spread herself and the other to press it in. At first she teases around her entrance, bumping her clit and dipping in before pulling out – all the while her eyes are fixed on him. She takes a deep breath, her breasts rising enticingly at the motion, and then plunges the dildo inside. He can hear her gasp as she turns her head to the side and tries to catch her breath.

She keeps it there, for a very long moment, breathing. It’s not quite what he would do in this situation, but then, suddenly, she pulls it out and then back in, moving it so it’s coming out at a slightly different angle than it’s going in and – if he didn’t already know she was frighteningly intelligent he’d suspect it from how well she’s deduced. Or maybe it’s not what she’s deduced – maybe it’s just what she _likes._ And isn’t that a thought, because he’s seen it all now and it would be so easy to take her apart with it – he knows exactly where to touch her and exactly how to fuck her now because of what she’s shown him.

It’s not the kind of power he can exploit now – or he could, but it wouldn’t help his bids for freedom – but just knowing that he knows exactly how to take her apart? Oh yeah, that’s going to be on his mind for the rest of his stay. 

Her hand that isn’t guiding the fake cock is just resting, fingers on either side of her clit, but then with one harsh push in she puts pressure there and – her hips come off the ground and her hand loses all sense of rhythm and falls away, the dildo staying put by the visible clenching of her cunt as she grips her thigh instead as she comes. Her face is wild with ecstasy and savage joy – it’s a good look on her.

His mouth is dry as he watches her writhe for a breathlessly long moment, toes curled and fingers digging into her own skin. “Fuck,” he breathes, when her body finally relaxes and her hand comes to lazily pull the dildo out of her with an obscene wet noise. Her eyes are still closed and he takes a moment to admire just how gorgeous she is, damp with sweat, lips red from her own teeth and eyelashes dark crescents against her cheeks. 

“God,” he says, voice more hoarse than he’s expecting and he swallows, convulsively, when she opens hazy eyes to peer at him, “I want to taste you.”

“Oh,” she says, mouth falling open and tongue darting out to wet her lips. Her legs spread more and she sucks her lip into her mouth and bites down on it for a moment. “Yes, please.” She sounds drunk, almost, words slurring together slightly as she absently tweaks a nipple and stares at him.

“You want to imagine my mouth, Jemma? Licking you open until you’re coming on my tongue?” He licks his lips, her eyes tracking the motion, and then she’s nodding, eyes hazy but wide. 

“Please,” she says again, and then she raises the hand that was at her breast to her mouth and licks her fingers for a moment before moving that hand down to her clit. 

“I’d tease you,” he says, because she’s hesitating more than she has so far and he wants to make sure she knows exactly how he’d take her apart with his mouth, “not touching your clit but kissing and biting – leaving little marks you’d have for days –“ She moans and he grins, hungry for her, and continues, “and only when you were begging and writhing and senseless would I touch your clit – lightly at first, just little teasing tastes to find out what you like – what do you like baby?”

Her fingers are doing their best to follow his instructions – although he would’ve kept her on edge for much longer, but it doesn’t seem like any sort of delay is going to happen tonight, maybe next time – and it takes her a moment to formulate a response. “Fast – I want – fast and hard and – _please_ –“

Her eyes are squeezed tightly shut as her fingers rub against her clit and he would kill anyone for just the chance to taste her right now.

“I’d give you what you needed, let you rut against my tongue until you were coming on my face – is that what you want, sweetheart?”

“Please –“ she’s nearly sobbing now, fingers working quickly, as she tries to open her eyes and stare at him – he licks his lips for her again and she gives a cry and closes her eyes again and comes.

“I wouldn’t stop,” he says, and her fingers, which were slowing, speed up even as she gives another half sob half moan. Her breathing goes frantic again and he thinks she’s close already, so he keeps talking. “I’d fuck you with my tongue, maybe use a finger and –“

She cries out loudly enough that he cuts off, wrapping his fingers around the base of his cock so he doesn’t come because the end of the cry trails off into his name. His first name. “Grant – Grant,” she says again, fingers now clumsily fucking into her as she grinds against the heel of her hand, “please, please – _Grant_!”

“I’m right here baby, I’ve got you, you can do it, come again.” And she does, shuddering and biting her lip hard enough that he’s worried for a moment she’s going to hurt herself but then she goes limp. He thinks it might finally be done and he wonders how to play it – he’s still hard and he wants her more than he can say – but then she opens her eyes and stares at him, still lust drunk.

“How you feeling, baby, you okay?”

“Uh huh,” she says, turning her head back and forth, fingers curling and uncurling against the blankets. “Want your cock – want your fingers and your mouth – please – Grant –“

He tries not to look smug – she wouldn’t recognize it now but he’s not sure she won’t realize later and – that’s not that impression he wants to leave her with. He’s _helping_ her, after all.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he says, biting off how much he wishes he could because he’s sure she’d remember that and he doesn’t want her dwelling on it. “You’ve got some pretty toys there, do you want to try another one of those?”

“Oh,” she blinks open her eyes and stares at the scattered toys, biting her lip again and reaching out a hand. She takes a moment, fingers hovering over another dildo, and he makes a vaguely negative click, just to see what she’ll do, and her hand moves on – he waits until she’s touching a small oval vibrator before humming, softly, and her fingers curl around it.

He’s curious to see what it looks like when she comes on a vibrator instead of her fingers – and he’s immediately disappointed. She turns it on, high, and touches her clit and arches – oh, she looks fucking gorgeous coming, making these little panting noises – but there’s no build up and –

“No,” he says, as soon as she’s switched it off, whole body still twitching slightly with her orgasm, and she makes a confused noise in her throat, looking at him with half lidded eyes. “Don’t you want your fingers again, baby? To feel yourself pulse around flesh?”

Her mouth drops open and the vibrator gets put to the side, carelessly, as her hands move down her body again. He could watch her fuck herself on her fingers for days – he’s not sure he ever could get tired of it – of watching her slender fingers slide through her wet and gracefully into her cunt – it’s mesmerizing to watch how she moves between fucking into herself and fingering her clit and how she knows exactly what works but, when he says “go slow” she does.

He squeezes the base of his cock again, so hard he’s probably doing himself brain damage from lack of blood flow, and nods, giving her permission to speed up again – and she does. Deft fingers working side of herself as she tries to keep her eyes on him and where his hand is in his scrub pants and then she’s arching, free hand scrabbling against her blankets as she tosses her head and cries out her pleasure.

It takes him only a moment to realize that something has shifted. Her fingers aren’t twitching, aren’t already starting to work at herself again. She’s completely still, just lying there and panting – eyes fixed on the ceiling. She closes them in a slow blink, lets out a long drawn out breath, and shifts her hands away from her body. She’s still shuddering, slightly, from her last orgasm, her breaths coming in little hitching gulps. But he can see her slowly calming herself and her heartbeat where it’s visible pounding against the thin skin of her throat slowing.

He’s not surprised that when she sits up, finally, her eyes are no longer lust glazed. They’re still dark, more pupil than iris, but there’s that fierce intelligence there again; she’s more human than instinct, again. Her expression is one he’s seen before – though never on Jemma.

 He’s seen it on marks before – when they don’t want to trust him but he’s starting to win them over.

He barely manages to keep from grinning at her – fierce and victorious.

She wipes herself down, thoughtful, with the towel, but she doesn’t try to hide herself from his gaze, even now. She grimaces and winces but is very thorough. He makes no attempt not to watch, even though she’s making it a point of not acknowledging his existence. Than she gets dressed – pulling out soft pajama pants and a sweatshirt from behind the pile of bedding. Her discarded clothing goes into the cardboard box where she returns the toys.

She grimaces at the pile of bedding and used towels before shaking her head and picking up the box.

She finally turns to face him. She’s trying so hard to keep her expression flat and emotionless, but she’s failing. Jemma isn’t made for that and he knows it. She knows it too. But he humors her and just watches her, his own face betraying nothing.

She meets his eyes for only a moment before they dart away – a soft blush climbing up her cheeks.

For a moment he thinks she’s not going to say anything, just going to leave.

But she’s always been made of sterner stuff than that and she, staring at a point over his shoulder, finally says, “Thank you for your assistance,” and then she turns on her heel and leaves, knuckles white where she’s clutching the cardboard box to herself like a lifeline.

He watches her go and wants, more than anything, to follow.

He’s wanted to be out of this cell plenty of times since the moment he was put in it. This is the first time he’s ever been glad to be here – if he wasn’t here than someone else would have seen Jemma come undone, someone else would have heard their name. Someone else might even have gotten to touch.

Grant is aware that less than twelve hours ago he wouldn’t have cared about any of that – but now he does and fiercely. He’s jealous of even the thought of someone else seeing her like that – of seeing her like anything.

He’s glad for the barrier, then, too. That he couldn’t touch. Oh, he wanted to. And he will. SHIELD thinks they’ve got him trapped forever, but he knows that things change and it’s only a matter of time before he gets out.

And now, when he does, he has another goal: to hear Jemma say his name like that while he’s buried to the hilt in her wet heat, to feel her clawing at his back and crying out.

When he touches her – and he will – it won’t be because she’s drugged and doesn’t have a choice. It will be because she wants it – because she wants him.

She’d come twelve times, in total, due to her drugged state.

He wants to make her come at least thirteen – just with his hands and his cock and his mouth.

He tilts his head down to avoid the cameras and smiles to himself.

It’s good to have goals.

**Author's Note:**

> Have I mentioned yet that Amy and JD are the best? Because Amy and JD are the best and I love them heaps and heaps and heaps and heaps. 
> 
> Lastly, my writing tumblr can be found [here](http://capriciouswrites.tumblr.com/)! Feel free to come poke me!


End file.
